The End of an Era
by Elizabeth Goode
Summary: A possible missing scene from Return of the King between Elrond's visit and Aragorn's journey to the Paths of the Dead. Spoiler alert for ROTK


The End of an Era  
  
By Elizabeth Goode  
  
Spoiler Alert! This short, one-shot fic was inspired by my midnight viewing of Return of the King. Do not read if you are not okay with spoilers!  
  
This fits in with my other two fics "Exiled" and "By Some Evil Spell", and references events that happened in these stories. It is also sort of a missing scene from ROTK, so be spoiler-warned.  
  
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"I come on behalf of one that I love."  
  
The hard lines in the elf lord's face, coupled with the accusing stare -- they threatened to break the man once known as Strider, once known as Estel. Memory betrayed him as his mind's eye saw the same elf lord smiling, even laughing as he allowed his young human foster son to sit on his knee. The face that now derived no pleasure from his company had once looked with concern upon a wounded young Ranger, had counseled with compassion and understanding one who had killed for the first time. Now, those eyes that had once watched him with pride and love were cold. Elrond had come to him out of necessity. If Aragorn did not walk the Paths of the Dead, if he did not become King, if he could not win this war, Arwen Undomiel, Evenstar of her people and cherished daughter of Elrond would die.  
  
Slowly, Aragorn nodded. Whatever was asked of him was what he would do. If Elrond had come to him and said that the only way to save Arwen was to fall upon his own sword, he would have done so with a smile upon his lips and a song in his heart. Which made the request he had made, the leverage he had used to move Aragorn to action, no less cruel. Even as the words passed his lips, Elrond saw a change in the man. A light in his gray eyes winked, then was snuffed out utterly and completely, and Elrond felt his pulse quicken in alarm as the cold realization of what he had done washed over him. Aragorn would walk the Paths of the Dead and face the restless spirits without fear. He would become King, he would lead and he would fight. But, he would do none of these things with the slightest bit of hope. He cared not whether he lived or died. How could he fear restless spirits and the blades of the enemy when there was nothing that they could do to him that was any worse than what had just been done?  
  
Head bowed, Aragorn walked out of the tent and did not look back.  
  
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Legolas frowned with concern as he tried to catch Aragorn's eye. The former Ranger had seemed truly grateful for the companionship offered by Legolas and Gimli, but there was something wrong, something amiss with the man, that much Legolas could tell.  
  
"Tell me, my friend. What is it that troubles you? Is it this fell task? I confess that this is by far one of the most unnerving tasks we have tackled yet. This place is cursed."  
  
Aragorn shook his head. "I do not ask you to come with me. Turn back if you must. This is no place for one of the firstborn. Even now, the curse dims your light."  
  
The Prince of Mirkwood shrugged. "Do not concern yourself with my light. It will return when we quit this place of evil. I am not worried - not about that."  
  
"What then worries you? I would not have you keep silent if you have something to say." The human gasped softly when the elf reached out and gently cupped his chin, raising his face until he could look into the gray eyes he knew so well. Rendered momentarily speechless by the emptiness and sorrow that were reflected there, Legolas glanced helplessly at Gimli.  
  
The gruff dwarf spoke, his booming voice softened with compassion for both the man and the elf. "He worries for you, laddie. With good reason, it seems. And now, I worry for the both of you. That elf that brought you the knowledge that you must walk these cursed paths? That was Lord Elrond of Rivendell was it not?"  
  
Aragorn nodded, the movement so small that it was barely perceptible. "Yes, Gimli. It was Lord Elrond."  
  
At Aragorn's answer, Legolas felt a righteous anger begin to boil. Long had he known Elrond and his family, and he knew now what had transpired. Long ago, he had pledged an oath to an ill, wounded young Ranger, an oath that he had never regretted, not for one moment. He had sworn to his friend, who at that time had been known as Estel, that he would stay with him until his time on Middle Earth had ended. Legolas had promised not to sail while Estel still lived. The way things were going, he feared that it would not be long.  
  
All those long years ago, Legolas recalled a conversation he had had with Elrond. The Lord of Rivendell had been all fatherly concern as he tended his foster son, and Legolas could remember seeing the elf lord trace his finger tenderly down Estel's cheek, whispering in Elvish to his son to come back to the light. He had willingly entered the young Ranger's mind to help him to fight off a foul creature of Sauron that had sought to destroy him. The creature had played on the human's insecurities and fears and had very nearly succeeded in driving him to insanity. Elrond had told Legolas that he was glad that Aragorn would not be alone when the Peredhel departed for Valinor. Had Elrond foreseen that the day would come when he would forsake his human son? Had he known, even as he reassured Estel of his love, that there would come a time when that love would be revoked? Had he known that he would have to use the boy he had raised so cruelly?  
  
Estel's capacity for love had once again proved his downfall. Legolas had no doubt that if Elrond had so commanded, Aragorn would have run himself through with his sword if he thought that it would lessen the burden he perceived he had laid upon the heart of his beloved Evenstar and his adoptive father. And, figuratively, that was what he had done. The light in Aragorn's gray eyes was not just dimmed. It was absent.  
  
"Oh, my friend. I see what you have suffered. I cannot take away your suffering, but I will bear it with you. Please, let me help you bear it."  
  
To his surprise, Aragorn pulled him into a tight embrace. For a moment, he sensed the man's struggle for control as he pressed his face into Legolas' shoulder. Slowly, Aragorn pulled away, the faintest traces of an embarrassed grin haunting his mouth. "Thank you, Legolas. I will be all right now."  
  
Gimli, unaware of the wordless understanding between the man and the elf, snorted. "All right? You're as far from all right as I've ever seen, laddie."  
  
Aragorn managed a weak grin. "I could say the same for all of us, including you, master dwarf. The strain of leadership, the weight of responsibility ... they weigh heavily. Legolas is an old friend, this you knew. Tonight, I had need of his strength. I apologize for my strange mood, Gimli, and I thank you again for your loyalty. Your presence is much appreciated, especially here in this place of darkness."  
  
The dwarf was touched by the former Ranger's words. "You are quite welcome, Aragorn. Besides, I couldn't let the pointy-ear take all of the glory, now could I?" Gimli smiled, giving both the man and the elf a hearty pat on the back.  
  
Legolas laughed at Gimli's comment, but continued to watch Aragorn in concern. The dwarf was still muttering to himself something about pointy ears and the number of orcs he had killed in battle, and Legolas took the opportunity to ask in Elvish, "Will you be all right?"  
  
"Yes. I am not alone, I see that now. It was not entirely unexpected, Legolas." The words sounded, even after his years of living among men, so much more natural in Elvish.  
  
"What?"  
  
"The - the things that have transpired between Lord Elrond and myself. Years ago, when - when the creature of Sauron held me prisoner in my own mind, Lord Elrond saved me and together we defeated the creature. To do this, Elrond allowed me to enter his mind. He withheld nothing, and it was seeing his love for me, understanding the lengths to which he had gone to bring me back to the light, that destroyed the creature. To enter the mind of another in this way is to understand them completely. Lord Elrond did truly love me as a son. He wanted to allow my union with Arwen, wanted happiness for us both. But, at the same time, he knew that wanting was different from reality. He knew that he would not be able to give her up in the end even then. That is what makes this so - so difficult. If I did not know for certain that he had ever loved me, it would not have - have hurt so much to discover that it is no longer the case. I have long seen this coming." Aragorn placed a hand on the elf prince's shoulder. "Your presence makes what I must do bearable. Thank you, my friend. For everything."  
  
With that, Elessar, King of Gondor, also known as Aragorn, Isildur's heir, once known as Thorongil, Captain of Gondor, who was once called Strider, Ranger of the North, turned and continued his journey through the Paths of the Dead, followed by Legolas Greenleaf and Gimli, son of Gloin.  
  
None of his titles, aliases, or ranks would ever hold so much meaning as that relatively short time from childhood to early adulthood when he was Estel, son of Elrond, brother to Elladan and Elrohir, and for a short time, beloved of Arwen Undomiel. The era of Estel had come to an end, and the irony was not lost on the man. 


End file.
